Little Victor
by The Really Cool Zen Garden
Summary: First story... A family of Aristocrats comes to the newlyrich Van Dorts' home. Could this mean trouble for their little son?
1. Nell the tyrant

Chapter 1 

Victor was sitting at his desk in the room of his house. No. _Mansion. _It was as if the Van Dorts were living a vision; it was simply beyond belief that William Van Dort's crackpot canned-fish idea would be a hit. Now they were _rich_. Now they had _money_. Lots.

Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort were thrilled to live in such a fantastic village, home to some very significant people. However, Victor wasn't the kind of child who is easily spoiled. He felt lost in the creaking mansion. It was big compared to the little place he had just moved from, and for seven years, was raised in. It, not surprisingly, made him very anxious.

In order to cope with Victor's feelings of unhappiness and faint terror with the enormous and sudden changes, Victor's father William Van Dort gave him a small dog. 'Scraps' was the name Victor had lovingly christened the little mutt with. It simply fit, because Scraps ate only table-scraps. And now Scraps lay on the floor beside Victor's bed, as a silent companion while Victor thought deeply about something.

Time always seemed frozen while Victor was concentrating, or what his mother called 'zoning out.' And nothing but the shrill voice of his mother, Nell, could penetrate his thick self-generated shield of thought. And now, this ability was exercised as Nell shouted up the hall for Victor to come down.

"Victor! Come down here!" She, in all of her hefty ferocity was standing at the bottom of the steps in the garish main entrance hall. "What the devil is he doing up there?"

Victor, now wrenched from his train of thought, jumped from his spot at his desk and sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him to where his mother indubitably stood. Now he stood, or rather cowered beneath her. "_Someday, I'll be much bigger than her-and then I'll be the one in charge."_ He thought deviously to himself with a slight smile forcing its way onto his young, anxious face.

"What's so funny?" His mother demanded. Victor immediately snapped into about-face.

"N-nothing… mother…" he stuttered. He'd had a submissive stutter ever since he realized the hold his mother had over his life, which was pretty much since he was born. The day his mother had rhetorically inquired, "are you _sure _he's a boy?"

Nell cleared her throat. She was waiting… waiting for Victor to ask what was needed of him.

"What's wrong?" asked Victor.

"It's time for you to practice playing."

"Yes mother." Victor said as he walked over to the large piano positioned in the corner of the parlor. He sat down on the bench, and began the irksome scales. _C D E F G F E D C…_

William and Nell required the possession of some sort of artistic ability in their son. They'd given Victor a choice of what he wanted to learn in the arts. He chose music, and played the piano with ease at age four. He was a smart boy, a good boy. However, his mother often inwardly thought, he was clumsy. He was too withdrawn and he was a bit careless with his appearance, not to mention how _small _he was. His father swore, "don't worry, Nell-dear. He'll just spring up once he's fourteen or fifteen… or sixteen. Somewhere in there, but he'll not be such a pipsqueak for long. Don't worry. I know-" and at that point of the conversation, Nell had smacked him in the gut for rambling about pointless matters. Ever since Victor was a tiny boy he showed signs that worried Nell. He might've been acutely autistic. And just think of how an autistic child would make the Van Dorts look in the eyes of the aristocracy!

Nell couldn't bear to think of it. It was simply unheard of that the Van Dorts were anything less than the gentry among which they now resided. They had the money, it didn't matter that the Van Dorts were newly rich!


	2. Mayhew

Chapter 2

Victor's mother had vanished from the parlor that now was radiating with the soft finish of piano music. He turned around, ready to ask to be excused, and was greeted with the loud hollow ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hall. This was a sure sign of lifelessness.

Victor's heart pounded. _What if they left me?_ He thought, and then shook the idea from his head. _Foolish ninny._ He stepped out into the hallway, and called softly, "Mother? Father?" This received no reply. Then he thought, what if Mayhew was there? He wasn't always at the Van Dorts home, as he didn't live there. He was their feeble excuse for a driver, and he was only called over when he was needed.

"M-mayhew?" Victor called into the gloom of early evening. "Are you there? Is _anyone _here?" A diminutive row of coughs answered his echoing calls. "Mayhew!" Victor sighed in relief. The slightly stooped twenty-five-year-old stepped into the parlor. He had a slight smoking problem that left him with a terrible cough. He could never seem to say anything without coughing. "What are you doing here? Where are my parents? Do you know? Are they here? Why are you here, anyway?" Victor demanded.

"What- (cough)" answered Mayhew as he coughed into his fist. "Too many questions, Victor. Your parents are here, they're just- (cough)-out back talking with the- (cough) Everglotts."

"Talking with the _who_?"

"Everglotts. I'm just here to see that you don't get into- (cough)- trouble little sir." Mayhew ended.

Victor sighed up at the man. He was practically a nanny; whenever Victor's parents weren't going to be nearby, as in the next room Mayhew was there. "And-err-would you mind… telling me why they're talking to the Elm-the… those people?"

"I'm not sure I know. I just- (cough) - know that you're involved. But- (cough) - don't worry. Are you- (cough) - all finished with your--" his sentence was ended in a violent fit of coughs.

"Practice?" Victor finished. "Yes. I've just finished a moment ago." His tone suggested that the answer should have been obvious. He wasn't as reserved with Mayhew as he was with his parents. As far as Victor thought in his seven-year-old mind, Mayhew and he were equals.

"Yeah. That. (Cough). Well then, come on. Nell and William told me to come and get you as soon as you were done."

"Are you sure? Because I- my mother would want… no… wouldn't want me to, well… get dirty." Victor admitted. He knew that his parents, well, his _mother_,would go into conniptions if he got so much as a single grain of nature on his shoes.

"She must not care now. Come on- (cough) - we've got to head outside to get to them."

Victor looked up at Mayhew with immense gratitude at the prospect of leaving the creaking, gloomy house. "Can I-"

Mayhew finished with a half command. "Bring the dog- (cough). If you like- (cough)."

"Scraps! Wake up, time to go out for a walk!" Victor cried out. Rapid little puppy footsteps were heard almost immediately after, rushing down the long stairway. The dog soon emerged from the dark corridor, his little puppy tail wagging the back half of his splotched brownish-reddish body, and his huge doe eyes staring at Victor with all the love in the world. At once, Victor cracked a smile. "Such a cutie, such a little cutie you are! Yes, you are my good boy!" he while rubbing Scraps' back. Mayhew shifted uncomfortably, and coughed overtly, as though telling Victor to salvage some of his dignity and put a leash on the dog. Victor looked up suddenly, and seemed to remember only then that Mayhew was present. He cleared his throat, and leashed the dog with his red collar. "Erm- well- yes then. Come on Scrapsey-boy."


	3. Maudeline and Finis

Chapter 3

As it turned out, Victor's parents were just outside the front door, or as Nell called it, the main entranceway. She felt the strange need to give everything a grand title. If it wasn't so preposterous, she might have even called herself and William, 'Lord and Lady Van Dort.' William was leaning more towards Victor's reaction to the newness of the fortune. He was the one who was extremely pleased with the situation, but not so conceited with the wealth that he would seek out a title for himself.

"Here he is now." Nell said haughtily toward two very ghastly-looking people, a short wide man, resembling a frog, and a very tall slender woman with disturbingly large gray hair. _This must be a family of aristocrats. _Victor thought to himself. He took a retreating step backward, which wasn't as discreet as he thought. He stepped on some sort of rock, felt a fleeting jolt of adrenaline, and fell. Mayhew moved sideways to avoid stepping on Victor and stifled his laugh with a cough. Victor's mother stood there, not noticing what happened, and Victor's father let out a sort of wheeze. The Everglotts looked down with disgust at their future son-in-law.

_If they think I died… maybe they'll just leave._ Victor hoped, but Mayhew stooped down, and grabbed Victors arm to lift him up. Victor's face burned. "Did you hurt yourself?" Mayhew inquired. Victor looked up at him. _For such a pale kid, _Mayhew thought, _he sure can turn red._

Victor stood up, feeling frail. Despite his discomfort, he was determined to make a good impression. He'd make polite conversation. _Exactly, I'll be the conversation artist of the century, after making myself look like a complete fool._ "Mrs.-err-ma'am, I… um…" Immediately his mother began to talk. _Saved by my mother…_ He thought as his face burned hotter than ever before.

Scraps looked up. His pink puppy tongue was hanging down out of his mouth as he inquiringly stared at Victor. "Victor?" _Scraps? _He thought.

"Victor!" Nell said sharply, once again ripping Victor from his train of thought.

"Yes?" Victor answered.

"The reason that you're here is because the Everglotts want you to marry their daughter. Do you understand?"

"What!" Victor said loudly, dumbly unsure of what he'd just heard.

"Oh, not _now _of course. You two will marry when you come of age," answered Victor's mother, matter-of-factly.

"O-of course…" He scratched the back of his neck.

Maudeline raised a disapproving eyebrow, and said a brief prayer in her head that he would be much less awkward when he grew up.

"Sh-should I meet her soon?" Victor asked while Scraps nudged his leg.

"When you come of age."

Victor's mind was frantic, _when I come of age? When will I come of age?_ He blinked himself back to the present, and looked up at his father. He wanted his father on his side. He didn't want to think of some girl being his bossy wife. Wives were all bossy, right?

"Well, this calls for some celebration, right?" Nell said loudly as she nudged her husband in the gut. He let out a faint _oof_. "Yes, how about tomorrow night? A good get-together, so we can all get to know each other. How's that? Here? Wonderful!"

"I suppose." Mr. Everglott said, in a strangely strangled voice. His wife merely nodded. Goodness they were unpleasant!

"There's bound to be some _very _important people, so we have to hurry and arrange this!" Nell whispered sharply to William. "Well, thank you for the conference. We'll notify you when the dinner is."

"Yes." Mr. Everglott said in his tight voice. And the Everglotts left.

Victor seized up, and fainted.

"That went well," said Nell.


	4. A disastrous meal

Chapter 4

Now people were gathering at the long table in the dining room. When Nell had said, "let's have a get-together soon", she'd meant that night. Victor was squished in between two people he'd never seen before in his life. This made him a trifle uncomfortable. The lady to his left was some sort of great aunt; she looked ancient, with blinding white hair that frizzed out wildly. She was from William's side of the family, because she would have looked exactly like him if she'd had a droopy beard. And the lady to his right was lady Everglott. She was still just as frightening. Victor let out a diminutive sigh, so as not to interrupt anyone's dinner conversation.

The little Everglott girl wasn't there, her parents said that she wasn't one for large crowds. Victor wasn't one for large crowds either, so he thought to himself, _why do _I _have to be here?_ He was the most easily recognizable one there. He was the small one with black hair and dark eyes. Everyone else present had either gray or white hair. It was interesting. _Why does everyone want to look so old?_ Victor wondered.

He was feeling uncomfortable. He looked down at his hands. He wanted to be by his parents. The women that sat on either side of him weren't his mothers, and the squat little man that sat next to Mrs. Everglott on his right was not his father. Victor's parents sat at the head of the table, very, very far away. So far away, that Victor would probably lose his breath running up to them. _Why is everything here so overdone? _

When Victor looked up, dinner was on the table. It was vegetables, and a fishy-dish. It didn't look like regular trout or bass. It smelled like a shellfish.

Mrs. Everglott was giving Victor a look of disgust. Conversation in the Van Dort household was often a bit obnoxious. Perhaps the Van Dort household simply did not compare to that of the wealthy, sophisticated Everglotts. _But if the Everglott family doesn't like mine… how will this ever work?_ Victor took a bite of the fish-like substance.

_It's not so bad._ He thought as he chewed.

And then it happened.

A surge of jade nausea sliced through Victor's stomach. He abruptly dropped his fork and clutched his cramping stomach, doubling over in his seat. His aunt Mabel Walker next to him turned to stare.

"Oh dearie, you don't look too well…" She said patting Victor's back as he willed himself not to throw up. He stumbled out of the room, one hand clapped over his mouth, the other on his stomach.

There was a sickly splattering sound, a little whimper, and the sound of Mayhew's reluctant groan in the parlor. All eyes were turned to the entranceway to the hall. Nothing was to be seen, of course. But all present company surrendered their utensils to the table, and claimed to be finished eating.

"Um… tea in the living room?" William asked, as Nell smacked him in the stomach.


	5. Not going to worry

Chapter 5

It must have been hours until Victor finally fell asleep. That was how Mayhew found him the next morning; splayed out, covers kicked aside, deeply asleep.

Mayhew robustly slammed into Victor's room, so as to wake him. He opened the curtain, and to his satisfaction, heard Victor's small indignant groan.

"Mayhew?" Victor moaned, shifting so that his face was squished into a gaudy pillow. "Mayhew… I wish you'd _knock_ before you come into my room. I could get you really sick…"

Mayhew coughed loudly and pulled open the curtains on the large window. The daylight that illuminated the room required the assistance of a candle. It was gray as any day, and fat dark clouds pushed closer to the ground, threatening to unleash an unholy flood of rain.

"You've been cough in bed for almost a day cough Victor," Mayhew said. He walked over to the bed, and yanked the pillow out from Victor's reluctant, shaggy head. "Everyone's long gone now. Get up, you log, and cough eat something." He coughed again, and tossed the pillow on to the wooden floor. Victor groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm not hungry, M-M-Mayhew," Victor yawned, "I'm tired."

Mayhew trundled over to the bed and lifted Victor down to the floor. He stifled a cough as he started straitening the sheets.

"Where have my parents g-gone now? They're in the village… right?" Victor asked, shuffling over to the bureau to get his clothes out. "Why'd they leave?"

"I-cough- don't know where they slipped off to-cough- Victor. I think, they're off with the -cough- Everglotts, fixin' up your betrothal." Mayhew coughed again. "You gave the snobs some reason-cough- to rethink their promise-cough."

Victor looked abashed as he pulled his shirt on. "I messed up my betrothal?" He asked wide-eyed as he hopped over to Mayhew pulling his socks on. "Mayhew, did I really do that?"

Mayhew coughed and straitened Victor's collar. "No Victor. cough You didn't ruin your cough engagement. At least, cough I don't think you did." He coughed into his fist. Then chuckled at Victor's guilty, stricken face. "Don't worry about it." He said.

"I-I hope… I hope… I d-didn't…" Victor said looking at his feet like a scolded child. "Where's Scraps?"

Mayhew coughed into his fist. "He's outside waiting for you. That's cough why I came to get you. I thought you'd cough want some cough fresh air-" Mayhew coughed for a long time. Victor raised his eyebrows at Mayhew, wondering why anyone in their right mind would smoke. He vowed then and there to never pick up a pipe for the rest of his life.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Let's go." Mayhew said, and with that he and Victor left the room.

"Scrapsey-boy!" Victor cried delightedly as his dog leaped into his arms. Suddenly, Nell's voice popped into Victor's head, "_Don't let that bloody mutt jump up!_"

Mayhew coughed into his hand, "Feeling better?" He asked.

"Never better. And you know what Mayhew?" Victor laughed as Scraps leaped about, "I don't think I have to worry about marriage for a long while yet!"


End file.
